01-17-2016, 09:38 PM
Vanquish’s ideals had been narrow and arrogant when he was a young and selfish king. Only a veil of indignation had fell across him, so long ago, when Yael had moved to call this child a prince of their Deserts. It was not her benevolence that had disgusted him, it had been her lack of pride in giving away a title to such a simple creature. Vanquish had stormed through the Deserts that day, crumbling mammoth dunes like a children’s sandcastles. He had been dealing with the strain of two conflicting ideals, of his loyalty to his crown and the desire to be beside Lyric and he had been especially unreasonable and insufferable – those were black days in the titan’s life. He could not see to bring himself to acknowledge love for a child that was not of his own blood, let alone one that had been as Monroe had been – weak and pitiful and unwanted.
But death has a way of illustrating out each and every fallacy you’ve ever wished to lock away in your memory. It has its way of worming out every insecurity, every heartache, ever unfulfilled you’re your heart’s ever raced over. Vanquish had thought of Monroe many times as he waded through purgatory – he had thought of Romek and Marge and of Yael’s other lover, Rigdon. There is nothing but time to search and wonder when your soul has nothing to hold on to.
But his soul is home now and a soft smile graces the draft’s face, “King’s honor,” he says to the forever-child when he’s asked, “don’t hurt Ima no more.” He doesn’t step away from Monroe’s touch as he inspects his wings but his gaze moves to catch Yael’s as if to say, “see?” Vanquish’s other wing unfolds quietly from his side to tap the dun’s flank good-naturedly.
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vanquish
black king of the deserts
this is shit but still wanted to get a reply up, cuz cute